


When It Rains In Midgar

by Ardwynna



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, IT - Stephen King
Genre: Crossover, Dark Humor, Gen, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardwynna/pseuds/Ardwynna
Summary: There's a clown in the storm drain.





	When It Rains In Midgar

Midgar was drowning. It had been raining for days. The water had overwhelmed the drainage, half-clogged already at the best of times. After the first week, water began backing up in the streets, impeding traffic and redistributing the citywide allotment of trash. As the second week rolled on, services were cut to the bare essentials. Storefronts were closed. Emergency lighting went on. The sluice gates in the plate were opened to speed the flow of water, sharing heaven’s tainted bounty with the ones directly below. 

Most citizens, above plate and below, stayed indoors, avoiding the flood waters. But others saw opportunity. At least, that was the reason given for the increased military presence. Trucks patrolled, leaving a trail of orange cones in their wake. MPs directed the scant traffic with dubious success. SOLDIERs were sent out to ‘maintain order’, but mostly to look good on the news. 

Sephiroth did not mind the rain usually, but after four straight days in it even he felt like a dank rat. He stopped where he stood to let a bloated one float by. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure the Shinra news crew had packed up, then let out a sigh. The rising waters were driving many things to the surface. Most of them were fleeing, sensibly, but there were a few things using the chance to move into new territory. Things that the company would rather maintain their habitats beneath the plate. 

Sephiroth checked his armlet, twisting the materia in their slots as he stepped away from the patrol truck. The rain beat down on him, dripping off the ends of his hair. Not for the first time he wished he had a hood, or a hat, but it didn’t fit his company image, and the wind would make it hard to keep one on anyway. He was still pondering the differences between Wutai’s gentle mists and the soul-soaking downpours of Midgar when a summon materia slipped its socket under his fingers and went rolling down the street. 

“Shit!” Sephiroth said, glancing back to make sure nobody had seen. Then he took off, following the red glow down the street. As fast as he was, the water was faster. His brand new Ifrit, company-issued, serialized and registered, rolled with the flow and went down the closest storm drain. Sephiroth lunged, but it was gone. He stared down into the darkness, searching for any hint of a glow, but there was none.

He felt himself sinking with it, down the pipes, to the open drains far, far below the plate. It would flush out in the sewers and be lost for good, if he was lucky. It could roll out the slums proper and be found by just about anybody. There was going to be a lot of explaining for this. Materia, summons especially, did not grow on trees. 

He took a deep breath and stood, resigning himself to reporting it lost, to the inquiry and the paperwork. A replacement would be granted eventually, he was sure, but that one was as good as gone. People weren’t picky about appropriating misplaced property down below. As he turned to go, he heard a voice. 

“Hi, Sephy.”

Sephiroth blinked and turned back. He shook his head and looked again. He glanced up for cameras, for Zack shouting that it was all a prank, but he had left the patrol and the news crew behind, and there was no rational explanation for what he saw. 

There was a clown in the storm drain. There wasn’t much in the way of light but mako eyes didn’t need it. There was a clown in there, with perfect white makeup, and a shock of red hair, brighter red than that Turk’s, and curlier too. Sephiroth did not have a lot of experience with clowns, but this one looked like he expected they were supposed to. The clown had balloons in one hand and in the other was the dim red glow of a summon materia. 

“You want your materia, Sephy?” the clown said. 

“Yes. Of course.” Sephiroth stepped forward but the clown drew the materia away. “Please don’t do that, Sir,” Sephiroth said. “It’s company property. There’ll be hell to pay if I lose it.”

“Sir,” the clown laughed. “Sir. You’re a good boy, Sephy, a good boy, but you don’t have to call me ‘Sir’.” His eyes flashed in the dark, and Sephiroth wondered if maybe clowning was some old SOLDIER’s retirement plan.

He sighed. “Do you have a name then, Mr….?” 

The clown laughed. “I, my good SOLDIER Sephiroth, am called Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Sephy meet Pennywise, Pennywise meet Sephy. Now I know you, and you know me, and you can just reach on in and get your materia.”

Sephiroth sighed again. “Couldn’t you just hand it to me?”

The clown looked confused. His eyes seemed to glint yellow in the dark. “I… I can’t reach that far up, Sephy. You’ll have to reach in. Come on, you can do it. Such long arms you’ve got, Sephy.”

Sephiroth crouched, doing his best to keep his knees out of the water, working out the best angle to work his arm in. “How did you get in there anyway?”

“Oh, it was the storm,” said the clown. “Blew the whole circus down and just washed us all away.”

“Really?” Sephiroth blinked. “I didn’t even know there was a circus in town.” It still didn’t answer certain questions. Sephiroth contemplated the little he knew about clown anatomy. They did seem a bendy breed. “All of you are down there, you say?”

“Yeah, can’t you hear us, Sephy? We’re all floating down here.”

Sephiroth leaned further in. He thought he heard calliope music. There was a very slight whiff of popcorn in the air, along with the more usual assortment of dung. “Hm.” Well, the sewers were pretty roomy if you went down far enough. “Well, okay then. Let me just get my materia then.”

He reached in and Pennywise grabbed hold. “Shit,” Sephiroth said, gripping the curb with his free hand. “You’ve got quite a grip there, Sir, I mean, Pennywise.”

“That I do, don’t I?” said the clown, gasping for breath. “Such strong arms you’ve got.”

“Yeah, it’s the job,” Sephiroth said. “Could you please just hand me my materia? If you wanted a hand up all you had to do was ask.” Pennywise was really yanking now. Sephiroth’s shoulder would have taken a beating on the curb if not for his pauldrons. 

“I like it here,” said Pennywise, pulling harder, gasping for breath with each tug. “We float. Don’t you… want… to float too?” 

“Not particularly.” Sephiroth ran out of patience and began yanking back. “Just give me my damn materia already, will you? I’ve had a long day.”

The clown’s face changed, the eyes going bright yellow, the teeth growing sharp. Sephiroth groaned. Reactor runoff had been causing more and more of this kind of thing lately. He gripped hard and pulled. There was a wet tearing sound and he pulled out his prize.

“Damn it,” he said, “Not again.”

He had his materia back, at least. It just came with a ragged, bleeding clown arm attached. He dropped back to his knees. “Uh, Mr. Wise? Do you want your arm back?”

The only answer was an unearthly, fading howl. Sephiroth glanced up and around. No news crew. No SOLDIERs. No rustling curtains in the buildings overhead. He wrangled the summon materia out of the arm’s rigid grip and tossed the arm itself back down the drain.

He stood quickly, making one last scan for potential witnesses. There were still none that he could see, and the drain was quiet now. Even the popcorn smell had disappeared, though the aroma of exotic manure remained. Sephiroth stared into the gaping blackness for sometime. 

There was no clown. No yellow eyes. No teeth. No howling. Maybe in a day or two, a dead one-armed clown would jam up the works under the plate, and the whole thing would be put down to a terrible, tragic accident. Sephiroth slid the materia back into place in his armlet and went back the way he came. The rain was still pouring and he’d had a very long day.


End file.
